Happy (almost) New Year
I may be abnormal.
I say the pleasantries: Happy Holidays! Happy New Year! But I’m unsure if I actually care about the holidays. I care because the people I love do.
The holiday season has been bittersweet for me since my mom fell ill with lung cancer over half my lifetime ago. Before that, it was just about presents for me, and seeing my mom happy, Christmas tunes playing as she sang along, hanging ornaments on the tree. She loved the holidays. And I loved her happiness. But I don’t think I’ve ever held my own opinion on it.
I’ve always readily played into the expectations of others most of my life. I set (hollow) New Year’s Resolutions that never went anywhere. I bought people gifts and received them—I do enjoy gift giving, but also hate it because I either know exactly what the person wants because they’ve asked for it and may be expecting it, or I get them something I like or think they will, and roll the dice on whether it’ll end up in a donation bin soon after or if they’ll actually like it.
I help make the Thanksgiving meals and the Christmas roasts, but I’ve only ever cared about the aspect of people being together. And delicious food, of course.
Maybe the holidays mean more to people of faith, but they’re often a reminder of loss and pain for me.
Thankfully, Brian is an avid holiday season lover. His enjoyment inspires me. It makes me want to keep trying. It makes me want to add to his happiness by being a part of everything, by hanging decorations and hauling a tree home. By listening to the same Christmasy music, and getting pine-smelling candles to engage the olfactory sense too—I do love the candles.
This year was a dud, mostly. The earlier-than-normal move (requested by the kids) and subsequent unpacking sidelined holiday festivities for us. No tree, no decorations, no season-satiating candles. No adult Christmas movie(s) for Brian and I after the kids went to bed, while we stay up and wrap presents a night or two before Christmas morning. (We did the wrapping of this year’s modest offerings, but were both too exhausted for even one movie.)
Middle made some paper snowflakes and taped them to a window on Christmas Eve, at least. Otherwise, that was all we had up this year.
After I put together the second wire shelving rack for the storage area, and set the Christmas decorations that weren’t hung this year on it yesterday, it stung. Surprisingly.
Maybe I do care, I just don’t realize it.
We’re almost done unpacking, at least. What an undertaking this has been.
There’s mostly just the kids’ (excessive amount of) stuff left. We’re also still on the hunt for a prep table / kitchen island that can support two to four barstools and give us added storage and counter space in the kitchen. Otherwise, the place is finally starting to come together.
It’ll be nice when everything is done. I hope we can call it “home” for many, many years to come.
I’m certainly ready to be done, and possibly never move again.
A friend suggested I share some of my organizational systems after we’re settled in. I’d be happy to if readers are interested—we all know I could go on and on about organization for eternity.
I’m looking at the New Year as a fresh start. We’re in a new space, we’ve overcome numerous challenges, we’re in a better headspace than we were during most of 2023, and we’re growing.
2023 was a tough yet somewhat forgettable year, and I’m excited for what’s to come.
This week, I took some time to map personal and professional projects for 2024, and visit all the “failures” mostly due to over-scheduling. Sure, numerous issues that popped up were entirely unexpected, and we had to adapt again and again. But I never plan for those unexpected pop-ups, even when they happen constantly.
So, if you twisted my arm and demanded I offer a New Year’s Resolution, it would be a triple dose general ideas, giving me space for interpretation and non-specificity (unlike all the unreached resolutions prior):
Have more fun.
Leave room for the unexpected.
Continue unmasking your Autistic (and ADHD!) traits because life and relationships are becoming deeper and easier to manage now that you’re making accommodations for yourself and being more true to the real you.
If you’re someone who likes to make resolutions, what are yours?
With my newfound missing-of-the-holiday hullabaloo, I can genuinely say Happy New Year to you—quite the growth in less than a thousand words. So, genuinely, Happy New Year.
I hope 2024 brings you love, happiness, prosperity, and good health. I hope you and your loved ones thrive and grow and get closer to one another.
I hope you get that project completed or get that job you’ve hunted for. I hope you can take that trip you’ve saved for, or get that furry companion you’ve wanted to adopt.
2024 is at the front door, and it’s ours. A fresh start in a fresh year.
We’ve got this.
All my best,
Sara
P.S. I predominantly write from my personal experience as an Autistic person with ADHD, chronic illness, Anxiety, and more. Each of these factors can influence my individual experience overall, as well as my experience of each condition.
What I share is not a substitute for medical advice.
Self-identification of Autism and ADHD (what many call “self-diagnosis”) is perfectly valid. If a personal Autistic experience I write about resonates deeply with you, consider these resources on Embrace Autism (starting with the Autism Quotient Test) as a first step. If professional assessment is important to you or your life has been impeded enough that you may need to qualify for Disability, you can print your results to bring to a diagnostician. (Having all those tests completed in advance saved me a lot of money!) Although there are many more diagnosticians available, here is a comprehensive list to get you started.
Lastly, some of my opinions may have changed since I first wrote the piece that lead you here.
Comment with any questions, and I’ll respond as soon as I can.